


Pooch

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Ficlet, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, PWP, Pregnancy Kink, Public Claiming, Sibling Incest, Trans Character, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As per tradition, Thorin demonstrates Fíli’s fertility to his dignitaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pooch

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Thorin is extremely proud that he impregnated his nephew (niece if you don't want mpreg) and shows off by making Fili strip in front of important guests and milking his(her) tits” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=26087938#t26087938).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Kíli’s honoured to be invited. He’s never been to one of these ceremonies before, being so young and them so rare, but for the king of Erebor, it’s a particularly special celebration. And all of his family is invited; Kíli’s mother sits next to him, Dáin on her other side, Balin on Kíli’s right. Dwalin sits behind them, amongst other dignitaries; it’s about twenty dwarves in all, each of important title or a friend of the king. Thorin himself has a seat facing them only a few meters away. It’s one of the cozier chambers of Erebor, little with candles and incense for this most blessed occasion. When the last dwarf has taken his seat, Thorin nods over his shoulder and calls, “It’s time.”

From behind the canopy in the back, there’s movement. A small rustle at first, and Kíli wonders—is Fíli nervous? It must be a nerve-wracking thing, parading in front of so many nobles, but Kíli knows that his brother is a brave dwarf. And he knows that Fíli is _honoured_. He cried the day he told Kíli the news, eyes crinkled from smiling too much, and then Thorin had come in and held them both, personally inviting Kíli to the ceremony. 

Now he has a front row seat to watch Fíli step out from the curtain. His golden hair is intricately braided by Kíli’s own hand and some by Thorin’s, jewels beaded in like a natural crown. He’s wearing nothing else but a thin, sheer nightgown, pink for the Dwarven sign of fertility. Through the nearly-transparent fabric, Kíli can see _everything_ , and it makes his breath catch at the pure beauty of it. He hasn’t seen Fíli in a nightgown since they were little and Fíli hadn’t yet transitioned. It’s the traditional outfit for this particular occasion, and he wears it well. He’s looking down, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. But Fíli is rarely shy, and Kíli knows he’ll recover. Kíli can see in his eyes how proud he is, and it’s a satisfaction he’s more than earned.

Thorin’s clearly never been more proud of anything in his life. He extends a hand, drawing Fíli forward, and turning him to face the crowd. From behind him, Thorin stands, his large thumbs hooking into the delicate straps of the nightgown. Fíli’s lashes close against his cheeks, his swollen chest rising as he lets out a deep breath. Then his eyes flutter open, and he looks first at Kíli as though to gather strength. Kíli bites his lip. Then Fíli looks above the crowd’s head, and Thorin slowly slides the straps down Fíli’s shoulders, peeling the nightgown away. It catches, at first, on his breasts, so strangely full after being bound so often. Kíli had forgotten how large they are when left on their own. Still young and perky, Fíli’s breasts jiggle as the nightgown pushes off of them, his rosy nipples budded in the open air. Perhaps he’s already aroused. He wouldn’t be the only one. The nightgown slips over his golden-furred, round stomach, then down his wide hips. He isn’t showing much yet, but there’s more of an arch to his middle than usual to an eye as trained in Fíli’s body as Kíli’s. The valley between Fíli’s legs has been trimmed, the curls cropped enough to show his pink lips poking out between them. It’s rare that dwarves shave anything, but for this, the bearer of Erebor’s heir is completely on display. Kíli can’t help but imagine his uncle’s thick cock sliding between Fíli’s delicate folds, soaking wet with want. They appear dry now, but Kíli imagines that won’t last long. It’s hard for young dwarves especially to keep their desire in check around the handsome, erotic beast that is their king. Kíli doesn’t know a single dwarf who hasn’t confessed to at least one fantasy of being plundered by Thorin’s mammoth cock. 

And Kíli, luckily, has Fíli’s stories to guide him, and he’s heard the screams. He knows how big his uncle is. He knows how much his brother wants it. When the nightgown’s reached the floor, Fíli doesn’t even have a chance to step out of it. Thorin’s fingers dig into his waist, and he’s tugged back into Thorin’s lap. He falls with a slight gasp, his plump ass squishing around Thorin’s thighs. Thorin runs his hands down Fíli’s hips and along his legs, smoothing over their soft inner flesh and spreading them wide, showing him off all the more. Fíli’s hands lift as though unsure what to do, and then he reaches back over his head to Thorin’s shoulders, and Thorin gathers his wrists with ease. Thorin tugs his arms together, crushed behind him as though tied just above his rear. It makes Fíli arch forward all the more. Thorin sweeps one braid aside and twists to kiss Fíli’s temple, then nips at his ear and coos something into it that doesn’t carry for the rest to hear. A shiver funs through Fíli’s body, and a fire comes into his eyes, the shyness ebbing farther back in favour of _lust_ and the desire to please his beloved master.

In a louder, grand, deep voice that twists luxuriously in Kíli’s ears, Thorin announces for all to hear, “As most of you already know, I’ve put my child in this beautiful body. This lovely treasure is now growing your heir.” Kíli’s sure everyone is smiling, but he can’t look away from the show before him to check. He’s torn between the feral _possessiveness_ on Thorin’s face and the debauched, wanton pride across Fíli’s. Fondly cupping Fíli’s ripe crotch, Thorin hisses, “You’ll see the growth of my child in his belly soon enough, but in the meantime, I will demonstrate to you that my Fíli is carrying.” There’s a sudden round of applause in the room, and Kíli, startled, lifts his hands to join. Fíli’s blushing deeply again, eyes still above the crowd, but they’ve grown hazy. Kíli’s sure the ceremony is more for Thorin to show him off than to actually prove a pregnancy.

When Thorin drags his hand away from Fíli’s pussy, it’s glistening with moisture. It’s one of many reasons Kíli’s grateful to be born a dwarf—he’s heard tales of other races, who don’t produce so many juices as their ample people. Kíli’s mother once told him the Dwarven hyper sex drive is to compensate for their low rate of carriers, and the thickness of their milk is what keeps their children strong. If Kíli didn’t know better, he’d also believe that Fíli was just so incredibly aroused by Thorin’s possession of him. 

Both of Thorin’s hands run up to Fíli’s breasts, and he squeezes them both at once, so fiercely that Fíli gasps, arching up. The plush flesh tents between Thorin’s thick fingers, and the way he covers them so completely makes it clear that, despite Fíli’s tendency to bind in public, Thorin is _very_ familiar with them. He must have them constantly when alone, and that thought makes Kíli squirm in his chair, one hand lifting to cover his mouth. Thorin drags Fíli’s breasts in a slow circle, then gives another tight squeeze, and Fíli’s now writhing, his head rolling back onto Thorin’s shoulder as his pretty mouth lets out a whine. When Thorin’s finished kneading them, he lets go to focus on Fíli’s nipples, which he pinches between his forefingers and thumbs. He drags them out enough that when he lets go, Fíli’s tits bounce wildly. With an affectionate chuckle, Thorin lifts his hands to lick his thumbs, then grabs Fíli’s nipples again. He pumps them a few times, until they’re rosy red and protruding far. Then he points them up at Fíli’s face and _squeezes_ , and twin jets of milky white splash up to catch in Fíli’s beard. Fíli lets out a cry, his hands flying around his body to cup his pussy, but Thorin lets go of his breasts to grab his wrists again, dragging them away. Fíli whines, writhing desperately, but Thorin simply scolds him, “Later, my love.”

Still, Kíli notices the way that one of Thorin’s knees thrusts just enough between Fíli’s spread legs for Fíli to hump it. He rubs his wet entrance lewdly against his uncle’s thigh while Thorin returns to his breasts, slapping them once just to make them jiggle and retain a tender colour. Thorin returns quickly to milking them, pumping out one squirt after another, until there’s a steady stream pouring out of Fíli’s nipples and dribbling down his stomach. Kíli’s once again grateful for the fertility of dwarves, and their young prince in particular. Fíli seems to have no shortage of milk to give his lover; every time Thorin’s thumbs squeeze Fíli’s little buds, more white cream gushes out of them. A few times, Thorin stops to shake Fíli’s tits, splashing the milk around and letting it slosh further down, making Fíli’s whole body shine. Some of it even gets between Fíli’s legs, where Fíli is now wildly riding Thorin’s leg, mouth whimpering constantly. Thorin doesn’t stop until Fíli is nearly crying from want, his chest heaving so hard that Thorin doesn’t even have to toy with his breasts to make them bounce. 

As soon as Thorin lets go of his breasts, Fíli whines horribly. He grinds his ass back against Thorin’s lap, where Kíli’s sure an erection must be. But Thorin has impressive control, and he merely calls to the crowd, looking thoroughly self-satisfied, “Who wants a taste?”

Kíli’s eyes go wide, while Dáin asks loudly, “What about his cunt?” A few of the others laugh. Kíli’s sure his face is entirely red from the mere thought. 

But Thorin just growls, “That juice is for me alone, but he has enough milk in him to feed the lot of you.” Before anyone else can offer, Thorin looks directly at Kíli, smirking, and asks, “Does my other sister-son want a chance to suck his brother’s tit?” Fíli lets out a particularly vulgar moan, his legs spreading even wider. He looks at Kíli through half lidded, sex-filled eyes.

Kíli thinks he might faint, but he nods.


End file.
